Dragon's Rebel (Wild Dragons Book 2)
Page 7
Rebel searched her sister’s face and body language for any sign of another anxiety binge. There was nothing, but still…
“If you see anything about Thorne taking the serum—anything bad—will you tell me?”
Tempest’s face darkened. “Do you think he’s really going to take it? Even though it could kill his dragon?”
“I hope not,” Rebel said. “At least, not until Tyr has a chance to check it out.”
Tempest nodded. “He’s okay,” she said softly, touching Rebel’s arm.
Yeah. For now.
She made her way up to her room, thinking about Thorne. What was she going to do, if the serum really worked?
What if she really did have to fall in love with Thorne to find the Seal? It wasn’t like she could just decide to be in love.
Would it be enough to care about him? Spend some time with him?
Do a little naked boinking, as Tyr so elegantly put it?
She lay down on the huge soft bed. Here, alone in her room, she could admit that Thorne fascinated her. He was so intelligent. Born centuries ago, and yet he’d evolved enough to set up complex computer networks, to access licit and illicit networks all over the world.
He loved art and beautiful things, the way all dragons did. But then, he also loved gold. She didn’t understand how dragons could love gold itself, the actual substance.
To Rebel, wealth was security. She’d used the money she got from her jobs to buy Tempest’s store. Not just the retail premises, but there were two apartments above it as well. One Tempest lived in, and the other they were using to store stock at the moment. Eventually, they’d talked of expanding the two of them into one and fixing it up so Tempe could have a painting studio.
All Rebel’s money had always gone into making sure her sister was okay. The rest was salted away in offshore accounts. She only used enough for her basic needs.
Because she was determined there was never going to be a time that she and her sister were in danger of going hungry, of not having shelter, not having a safe place to stay.
Never again.
So what did gold mean to a dragon? What did it mean to Thorne?
If she mated with him, would he take care of her, the way she took care of Tempest? She couldn’t imagine it, couldn’t imagine him loving her as much as she loved her sister.
And that was the only reason to take that on. Love.
She fell asleep and dreamed about a sexy man with loneliness in his eyes, brooding in a cave full of gold.
Chapter 14
Later that evening, Thorne was in fact in his lair, lying on a pile of gold. He wasn’t brooding, though.
He was thinking. Coolly, calmly and rationally. About the pros and cons of taking the serum. About alternate plans and scenarios. Risk assessments and cost/benefit evaluations.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
He didn’t even bother to deny it. He was thinking about Rebel. About almost losing her; about watching her struggle with her fear for her sister and her need to always control everything.
About her wild, wavy hair and her rare, flashing smile, and the scent of her skin. About how much he wanted to be a man again, and hold her in his arms.
Every cell in his body longed to bond with her.
Yeah, Thorne replied. Try telling her that.
Right. Like that would solve anything. He’d done nothing for the last few weeks but try to give her gifts. The ones that ended up in the middle of the poker table.
You may not have noticed this, he said, but she hasn’t been especially impressed with any of the gifts we’ve given her so far.
I wish.
He wished a lot of things were different. He wished he’d been strong enough to throw off Vyrkos’ command, like the others had. He wished the serum wasn’t the only way for him to turn human again.
He wished like hell he’d somehow managed to convince Rebel to bond with him and his dragon. If his dragon had something—someone—tethering him, maybe when Thorne did take the serum, he wouldn’t get… suppressed.
He didn’t even want to think the other words, but they echoed in the back of his mind anyway. Eliminated. Obliterated.
Words with a hollow, final ring to them.
Easy for him to say. He was a dragon—he didn’t understand everything they’d read in the scientific reports. He just had an overwhelming belief in himself that Thorne envied.
Good thing you aren’t, Thorne said. Because I don’t see any other way out of this except taking the serum.
And you still think we can find a gift in here that will make that happen? You’re more of an optimist than I’ll ever be.
Thorne would have laughed at that, if he hadn’t been stabbed in the heart with the realization of how much he would miss his dragon if things went wrong.
So what’ll it be, o wise and wonderful dragon? he asked instead, looking around his lair. Gold everywhere, stacks and stacks of it, and none felt good enough for his mate. Gold crown? A necklace like Blaze’s? Hopefully you’re not thinking about that inlaid dagger over there, because she’ll probably stab us with it the next time she gets pissed off.
She was. Passionate and sexy, with that furious fire in her eyes.
Speak for yourself. You don’t seriously think we should give her that, do you?
He moved closer to the table, examining the smaller bracelet. It was about an inch and a half wide, intricately woven of gold wire in a lacy filigree pattern. He’d intended to set both bracelets with gemstones to fill in some of the gaps in the design, but nothing had looked right.
Then things got crazy with Vyrkos and the tomb, and he’d pretty much forgotten about it.
It’s not finished, he said dubiously. I don’t know what gems to put in it.
How are we going to do that? We can’t even hold the tools.
While Thorne watched, his dragon took control of their body. With one of his huge talons, he delicately removed some of the smallest scales from the inside of his upper left foreleg. It hurt a tiny bit—like plucking a hair in his human form—and left small gaps that his accelerated dragon healing would soon fill with new growth.
He laid the scales one by one on the worktable, where they shone like sapphires in the magical torchlight—dark midnight blue shading to ocean blue. He arranged them in a pattern, moving them with the tip of his claw, and then deftly hooked the bracelet and laid it gently on top of the scales.
He focused his mind on the gold, asking it to obey his dragon nature, and then breathed on it.
The heat of his breath softened the gold, and Thorne saw the scales moving on their own, wiggling like tiny fish, working their way into the gaps in the design.
I didn’t know you could do that, Thorne said, awed.
When the scales stopped moving, Thorne’s dragon hooked the bracelet with his claw once more and turned it so Thorne could see.
The surface of the bracelet looked almost
solid now, the shimmering scales tightly interwoven among the gold wires, creating a picture. A leaping dolphin against a background of sea and sky, all in varying shades of blue.
It was stunning.
His dragon gave a murmuring purr.
If she didn’t, Thorne thought, he might as well give up. There was nothing in his hoard more beautiful.
You didn’t put any binding magic in it, did you? he asked suspiciously. You know how she feels about that. She’s afraid of being trapped against her will.
If she accepts it.
Great. Thanks a lot, asshole.
In the back of his mind, he heard his dragon laughing.
Chapter 15
Rebel was alone in her room flipping through channels on the TV when there was a knock on the door.
She put down the remote, frowning. Who the hell was that at this time of night? Tempest had gone to bed, and Zane and Blaze were shagging their way to ecstasy in their bedroom upstairs.
Thorne had gone off somewhere to brood some more.
That left her with nothing but Law and Order reruns, Shopping Channel, and late night porn.
The knock was repeated, louder, but no one called out. Rebel went to the door, hand on her Colt. Yeah, maybe they were in a magically protected dragon lair, but Corwyn had already broken in once. You could never be too careful.
She opened the door slowly, ready to draw her weapon. Nothing was there.
She looked down. A small blue velvet pillow hovered in mid-air about waist height, with a blue and gold cuff bracelet perched on it.
A zefir. With another mating gift from Thorne.
Apparently, Thorne was still convinced that every girl’s dream was a golden hoard of her own. She sighed and looked around the room at the crowded surfaces. She really didn’t have any room, but she didn’t want to hurt Thorne’s feelings by refusing.
She also knew that the zefirs, once Thorne had given an order, wouldn’t go away without fulfilling it.
“Thanks,” she said resignedly, reaching for the bracelet.
The pillow dodged out of her way and pushed past her into the room.
“Now just wait a minute—”
Rebel turned around and followed, grabbing for the pillow, but it dipped adroitly out of her reach. It was making for the balcony doors.
“Excuse me? I’m in here!” Was there such a thing as a blind zefir? Or was it trying to lure her out on the balcony for some reason?
“Okay, stop right there!” The pillow ignored her. The door to the balcony opened and the pillow headed out.
Rebel flattened herself against the wall next to the balcony doors. There was a rushing, whirring sound right outside the window, and an eerie blue light. Slowly, she inched the muzzle of the revolver out, and then stepped into the opening, Colt at the ready.
Don’t shoot. I surrender.
Thorne was hovering outside her window, his huge wings making the whooshing noises she’d heard. The blue light was from his eyes. And she was pretty sure he was laughing at her.
Rebel lowered the gun. “What the hell are you doing lurking outside my window like a stalker at one a.m.?”
Technically, I’m not lurking. I’m hovering. There was a pause. My dragon wants me to point out that it takes a fuck-ton of strength to hover for this long. He thinks that will impress you. So look impressed, or he’ll be disappointed.
“I’ll try. In the meantime, let me rephrase my original question. Why are you hovering outside my window like a stalker at one a.m.?” The floating pillow zipped in front of her, and Rebel looked from it to Thorne and back again. Oh, crap. This wasn’t some kind of formal mateposal, was it?
My dragon insisted. He—we—made you something. He wanted you to have it, in case…
In case he decided to take the serum, and he disappeared? Fuck.
She took the bracelet carefully off the pillow. She could have sworn she heard a tiny sigh of mixed relief and annoyance from the zefir. She felt a breeze and then it was gone, shutting the balcony door hard enough to express its feelings, but not quite hard enough to qualify as a slam.
The bracelet was gorgeous. Gold filigree, with a rendering of a dolphin leaping out of the ocean made from some kind of jeweled material that shimmered in the dim light. It was all in various shades of blue, reminding her of…
Damn. “Are these dragon scales?”
Yes.
“It feels magical.” She could feel a slight tingling in her fingertips where it she touched it. “What does it do?”
Thorne hesitated. I’m not sure. I shaped the gold several months ago, when I was in human form. But my dragon put the scales in it tonight. I’m not sure exactly what he did.
Rebel looked at him sharply. “He can keep secrets from you?”
Apparently. He didn’t sound happy about that. Neither was she.
Thorne added, But I made him promise me it wouldn’t bind you in any way. He paused. It means a lot to him. That last came slowly, as if he had to force himself to say it.
Dragon scales. She tilted the bracelet, watching them catch the light. She’d seen—and stolen—a lot of beautiful objects in her time, jewelry included. But it was always a job; she never kept them for herself. And this was the most unique, most beautiful piece of jewelry she’d ever seen.
She wanted it desperately—and not because of its value. It was deeper than that—like it spoke to her soul.
Maybe this was how dragons felt about gold.
She didn’t realize how long she’d been silent until Thorne spoke. You don’t like it.
He sounded disappointed. Not the kind of disappointed where you try something and it doesn’t work, but the kind of disappointed when you try to please someone you care about, and they reject your efforts.
It doesn’t matter. I told him you’d just gamble it away, but who listens to me?
His attempt to deflect didn’t fool her.
“I do like it.” Thorne and his dragon had made it just for her. No one had ever given her anything this beautiful before. She added softly, “I love it.” Slowly, she slid it onto her wrist.
It seemed to mold itself to fit her exactly, snug without being tight or uncomfortable. It warmed to her touch, and she moved her arm at different angles, admiring the play of light over the gold and the dragon scales.
It was—almost like carrying a piece of Thorne with her. A piece of his dragon self.
“Thank you,” she said. “It’s… very beautiful.” That didn’t even begin to cover it, but she didn’t know what else to say.
There was a short silence, and then he said, like a whisper in her mind, You are beautiful too.
For some reason, that made Rebel’s chest grow tight. It wasn’t like she thought she was ugly; men had been attracted to her before. But she was athletic. Tough. They’d called her hot, or a babe.
No one had ever called her beautiful.
Damn dragon. Making her feel things. But she ran her fingers over the scales again. They felt good against her skin.
She said, “Are you going to hover outside my window all night?”
Do you want me to?
“Not especially,” she said. “Truthfully, the idea of you lurking out there like some kind of giant mutant hummingbird is kind of freaky.”
Good. Despite what my dragon would have you believe, my wings are getting tired.
She smiled at that. “I’ll pretend to be impressed anyway.”
She could have sworn she felt him smile too.
Goodnight, Rebel.
Goodnight, Thorne.
And he was gone.
Chapter 16
Rebel slept fitfully after Thorne left. Her dreams were jumbled and disturbing: runnin
g from danger she couldn’t see; searching for things she couldn’t find. Trying to save someone—something—but never able to get there in time.
Suddenly she came awake with a start, with that awful feeling in the pit of her stomach like she’d forgotten something vital, or something terrible was about to happen.
Thorne was going to take the serum.
She knew it, as surely as if he’d told her. The bracelet wasn’t just an ‘in case.’ The bracelet was a ‘goodbye’ from his dragon.
He was going to do it now, tonight, while everyone was asleep and there was no one there to help him.
Stupid, stubborn dragon.
She got up and pulled on a pair of sweatpants underneath the oversized t-shirt she wore to sleep in. Her mind was racing. Where would Thorne go? His lair? The roof? Somewhere else?
How would she find him? He might already have taken the serum. He might need help.
She picked up Thorne’s bracelet from her bedside table, hesitated, then slipped it on. It still felt warm, and it molded to her wrist.
Thorne?
There was no answer. Maybe he was too far away to hear her. Or he didn’t feel like talking. Or he was unconscious.
Maybe worse.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and concentrated.
The roof. Rebel raced out onto the balcony and leaned her back against the railing, looking upward. It was raining—a light misting rain typical of Portland. It felt cool on her skin.
Three floors above her, she could see the electric blue glow of dragon eyes. She knew it was Thorne. And whatever he was going to do, he hadn’t done it yet.
Thorne? she called again. You might as well answer. I know you’re up there—I can see your eyes glowing.
You only wanted to know where I am. Now you do. Go back to sleep.
Are you okay?
Of course.
Bullshit. He was lonely and sad and scared—she could feel it.
I’m coming up, she said.
I told you, I’m fine. Can’t a person look at the view in peace?
The view was spectacular—the glittering lights of downtown Portland, with its seven bridges across the Willamette River. A million people probably lived within her sight, but right now they felt removed, unreal.